So Wrong It's Right
by XxRin-sanxX
Summary: The night after the events of "Thunderstruck (part 1 and 2)" Becky has a nightmare about Adam. Afterwards, she begins to think hard on her relationship with his brother, Drew.


Hello there, people! Thank you for being here and reading this, it means a lot. Ahem. I should warn you know that this was both Adam/Becky and Drew/Becky. I know that Drecky is not a popular ship, so if you think you'll hate it, feel free to go and read something more up your alley!

:) :) :)

Now, enjoy! And feel free to review if you feel so inclined~

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><p>Becky hesitantly reached out with two fingertips and felt the goosebumps that dotted her pale, normally smooth skin. Her breathing was still shaky and she could feel the touch of coldness to her face where her open window let in the light winter breeze that kissed her face and told her to calm down while making the drying trails of tears freeze her. Everything around her was a haze as she blinked back the tears that were still welled in her eyes, but no longer threatened to spill over. The haunting words from her nightmare still played through her head, the scene on some kind of bad karmic replay that didn't help her fall back to sleep any faster and instead put the heels of her palms on her eyes and rubbing them roughly.<p>

"How could you do this to me," the deceased boy had yelled at her, angry and kicking at the dying grass beneath their feet.

The area around them wasn't one that the blonde recognized; there weren't any buildings around them, not even when she went and looked out on the horizon. It was a simple, non-distinct area with dying grass underneath her footing and a few bare trees that she saw, but whenever she looked at closely seemed to be further away, that suggested to her that it was probably closer to autumn. This made sense to her, yet at the same time did not. Why was it autumn, when it was supposed to be closer to winter? Why was the wind kicking at the bare, ugly branches of the trees, yet she felt warm, as if she was back in Florida on a sunny morning? It didn't really make sense, and if she had been able to think harder about these oddities, she might have accidentally woken herself up and spare herself the pain. But she couldn't.

"A-Adam," she stuttered briefly, her normally crystal clear blue eyes, widened and more cloudy blue. Taking a deep breath, she tried to, but couldn't figure out what was going on. Why was her ex-boyfriend yelling at her, sounding as tense, angry and heartbroken as the day they had broken up. It was a feeling of bubbling frustration that helped her work through her confusion and didn't leave quickly enough to not resonate in her voice.

"Stop it, Adam," she said, huffing out an exasperated breath through her nose. "I told you already, it's over. This wouldn't have happened if you had trusted me. And if you can't trust me, we can't be together because now I can't trust you, either."

It was getting tiring, almost tediously annoying, doing this again. She did her best not to give him false hope that she could have changed her by the end of the summer. She sent back the flowers, which while being beautiful and included most of her favorites, was an obvious pitiful attempt to get her to forgive him. It might have worked, too, if this had just been an average fight for the lovers where something that might have been hurtful was said and tempers flared. But it wasn't, there was nothing average about him using the password she had given to him as a sign of trust and sneaking on her account to try to push of friends. Friends. That was what her and Todd had been that summer. And he could have known if he had just asked her, called her or even asked her over a Skype session. She had did it at the beginning of summer with him and Imogen, why couldn't he?

"Becky," the boy said, his voice full of stubbornness and yet defeat at the same time. "I told you I am sorry. Seriously, it'll never happen again. We can move past this, Becky, I know we can."

This was hurting her, she knew as she slowly shook her head was side to side, her blonde hair falling in front of her face on the left and shielding at least part of her tears. It wasn't that she didn't love him because she did - even now, even after he hacked her FaceRange account and broke her trust. And her heart, she was sure of, even though it didn't feel broken or dead. It beat hard in her chest now as if trying to break out and go over to Adam. She thinks that it only makes it worse, to still love someone after breakup, because even now she was hurting him and seeing him hurt still hurt her.

She knew he was hurting, it was all in his eyes. While both of them being open books in terms of their feelings, they did so differently. With her, it showed through her body language, when she was uncomfortable she would fidget and squirm as if she had an itch, when she was angry she was all sharps turns and edges and loud voices. With Adam, it was less subtle even though it was obvious with just a glance. It was all in his eyes; when he was uncomfortable, he wouldn't let you see them, he'd turn his head away or if he couldn't, at least avoid your eyes like a plague, never making eye contact. When he was angry or frustrated, he was bolder and showed you his eyes, showed you just how mad he is, all his frustration built up and yelling at you through a glare. That was was he was doing now, and she couldn't tell if the tears that shined in his blue eyes were from too much pent up anger or from the hurting he felt at her adamant refusing to get back together.

"Adam, I'm sorry, I am, but this-" she gestures between them with a few waves of her hand "-us, it isn't going to happen. Not again. We tried twice, but maybe this is His way of saying we just aren't going to work long term. We can be friends, Adam, just friends...and that's all."

Perhaps it was selfish of her to say that, to offer friendship when she knew he wanted more. When she wanted more, but she had been nothing but honest when she said she could no longer trust him. And trust, to her, was the foundation of any relationship, and without it she could never get back together with him. Still, she can't say she'd rather have him out of her life when he could be her friend.

"Just friends," she hears him mutter, and she reflects her shoulders and squirms for a second because it feels awkward hearing the words from him. He still looking at her, but the anger is gone and has been replaced when sad eyes that lets her know that she is as heartbroken as she is.

She's about to turn and leave because he was quiet now and she needs to think - and maybe some ice cream. Then, he speaks up again and it stops her. Because it doesn't make sense, and yet it does because she remembers it as if it was yesterday and yet it feels way too distant, like it maybe never happened.

"Is that what the text was about the day I died?"

There's nothing really one can say to that, not really, and she is suddenly cold, cold despite this sunlight and the wind now makes sense even though she knows that's not what it is. She doesn't know how to properly answer, so she nods and wipes her eyes. Something inside is going off, though, and it is no longer her heart. Not that's she's the one dead, but where the warning had been her pounding, twisting heart telling her to leave and spare them both the pain, it isn't. She can't look at him now and looks down at her white and pink Converse shoes. When she wakes up, she'll be glad, at least she didn't she transformation. But right now the word is swimming through her, eating at her with its simple familiarity and strangeness as if it is a new concept to her. Dead, dead, dead - Adam Torres is dead.

She hears him let out a breath of air, but it sounds wheezed and shaky, and she thinks that he must be crying and doesn't look up. She doesn't know why she doesn't just keep her head down and go, maybe saw something frivolous and stupid like, "See you at school" but the words are still ringing between her ears and she suddenly feels like curling into a ball and crying.

"Friends," he echoes, and to her surprise it is clear and even but sad. "Like how you and my brother were just friends?"

The words make her look up suddenly, and the apology that was ready on her lips suddenly crawl back down her throat. Everything clicks into place in the back of her head, the fact that it is windy and she is warm, the odd location or more importantly that she is talking to her very dead ex-boyfriend. She's dreaming. That doesn't stop the tears from flowing at the sight. Adam is no longer in the casual clothes he was in, but the suit he was in at the viewing; his hair is slicked back, as if going to a fancy restaurant and dressed to impressed rather than an eternal sleep. His eyes are closed and his skin is pale, as is he was sleeping while standing upright.

A light gasp leaves her lips when she watches the body falls backwards, elegantly so, and then just disappear into the grass. She closes her eyes and kneels on the ground and lightly sits back on her ankles as the tears rush down.

"A-Adam, I'm s-so sorry," she says, her voice coming out with a few stutters and cracks due to her tears, but is still strong. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I miss you still so much, but..." She doesn't know why she's saying this, and is sure she is now lucid dreaming, but it feels necessary. "He makes me feel happy in a way I haven't felt in so long. Please don't be mad at me, please don't hate me." She knows why she says it now, voicing one of her worst fears as of lately to him, even about this seems right even though it is wrong. Just like she thought her relationship with Adam was. Just like her relationship with Drew is.

Becky still doesn't know when she woke up, but she breathes a sigh of relief when the dream doesn't automatically replay for the fourth time. She tries to think about it, but she can't remember waking up, the lines between her dreaming reality and her actual reality too blurred the second she realized she was lucid dreaming. She thinks she vaguely remembers feeling the wind from the window chill her as she was apologizing but being thoroughly ignored. Had she said anything aloud?

She shakes away the thoughts and reaches out for her pillow beside her and hugs it to her as she curls around taking deep breaths. It takes about about ten minutes of deep breathing and some leftover tears before she can sit back up. She doesn't know why she does, but it's like she is moving on autopilot and she sits up and takes a deep breath before reaching over for the phone on bedside table. Grabbing it, she easily unlocks it and looks for it. It wasn't gone because she had saved, locked it and even screenshot it for absolutely just it case.

Finally, she finds it, the last message she ever sent to him: Adam. I'm sorry. We should talk. The pain that strikes her when she reads it isn't gone, not yet, not even with the time that has passed or the dream. Still, when it would have sent her into a fit of crying, she is able to take a deep breath and count to ten and let go before counting the rest of the way to fifty and read it again. She doesn't even have to wipe her eyes, though, they do sting and smiles.

The smile lasts until she exits out with the back button instead of the Home button and sees above that for text from Drew and the short conversation they had before she went to sleep.

Drew: Goodnight Becky.

Me: Night Drew. :)

She actually laughs at this, remembering her slight nervousness before looking at the text, hoping it wasn't something like "I love you" or something. She had meant it when she told Adam in the dream he makes her happy, he did. The feelings she feels aren't like what she had for Adam, it isn't really love and she doesn't feel her heart speed up like it did when she would catch Adam looking at her when he thought she wasn't looking or when she watches him walk in the room and look for her and then break out in a smile when he sees her. No, it isn't like that. Even the kisses wasn't the same, towards the end of their relationship, she had become much bolder and was able to initiate the kisses herself, most starting soft and ending up with them tangled in each other's arms and legs, making out in ways that would have made her blush and frown upon before she came to the school.

When they kissed it was soft, sweet kisses, and even though once she got the feeling that Drew wanted more, he never pushed her. The kisses they shared made her feel happy,alive and protected and loved. They had made her heart pound, but not with the feeling of an overflow of love, but with happiness and excitement and a promise. She still smiles when he walks in, even though he doesn't automatically look for her, he smiles back and sits next to her (or behind her, if in some classes) and she feels happy, whole and cared for. What they share, she thinks, isn't love not yet, but whatever it is feels real and she smiles brighter knowing she doesn't have to agonize over her feelings. They were wrong, but also so right.

Later that night when falls asleep it's with a face of dried tears, but a smile.


End file.
